


nowheretown

by yehetno



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: M/M, a quasi story about a boy who wants love and is kinda sad about it, idk - Freeform, next time i write something i'm not going to do any 'sad bc family not accepting', sorry i did that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23207527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yehetno/pseuds/yehetno
Summary: Jinwoo hated the beach, but he needed to start again somewhere new.(Jinwoo finds that, despite his best efforts, he likes it here anyhow.)
Relationships: Kim Myungjun | MJ/Park Jinwoo | Jin Jin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	nowheretown

**Author's Note:**

> my keyboard is an actual nightmare to use so. do with that what you will.  
> tbvh, i don't know what this is yet i feel compelled to write it because... i just do.

Jinwoo hated the beach.

It was a cut and dry case of negative association. Good memories of the beach had soured over the years, leaving Jinwoo with a bitter taste in his mouth when he glanced toward the skyline only to find the expansive flatness of the ocean staring back at him.

He used to live in the city.   
  


The ambient noise of the beach was too quiet yet overwhelming when contrasted with the low rumble of fast-moving cars interspersed with violent squeals let loose from car horns. From time to time, a group of drunken vacationers waddled past his window; the only noise that seemed universal from cities to the most desolate of places.

He missed living in the city.

His parting from the concrete jungle he once called home had been, in a word, ugly. He naively thought he’d find compassion in the arms of his family—both the family he’d been born into as well as the family that had chosen him. With his blood, it was death by a thousand cuts. The looks of chiding disappointment; flashes of disgust when forced to feign interest; and lamentations about how they wished he would pretend if he couldn’t actually be who they wanted, each utterance pushed Jinwoo farther away. With his so-called friends, it was abrupt. They were suddenly busy when he called. As soon as his lease ended, Jinwoo fled as far as he could to somewhere no one knew him.

He felt empty.

Alone in his car, he arrived at a desolate town on the coastline and sought out an empty apartment to rent for the time being. He thought it would be impossible for him to grow roots here. Eventually, he would be driven out by a mob wielding pitchforks, and when that happened, he didn’t want to leave anything that he cherished behind. It seemed a perfect place to start anew, a place where he could exist as a ghost. It would be simple to vanish from this place and leave in his wake rumors of monstrosity that could only exist in the hearts of the closed-minded.

He didn’t mind the people here.

Oddly enough, defying his expectations, the citizens of the town he called his temporary home did not treat him like the social lepper that he acted liked he was. His neighbor Jaein, a young single mother of three, gave him a gigantic basket filled with many types of bread, a hope that he was not gluten-intolerant, and the advice to holler if he ever needed anything. An older couple who frequently went on meandering walks about town brought him a homemade quilt, telling him that it could get quite drafty in the cooler months and that they didn’t want him to catch pneumonia. Without even applying for a job, the owner of the photo studio moseyed on over to offer him a job helping him process photos; his son had moved away to follow his passions as a journalist and, quite frankly, he needed someone who was willing to be trained in the dying art of developing photos. Plus, he freely admitted that it could get lonely working alone.

He liked his job.

The photo studio was a quiet workplace. The owner, Mr. Oh, tended to supply most of the conversation and often shared memories of his youth, his abrupt transition to adulthood, his happiness with his wife, his pride in fatherhood, and whatever else popped into mind at the moment. He seldom probed into what brought Jinwoo to town; Jinwoo couldn’t tell if it was because, somehow, he knew not to ask or if he never thought to ask at all.

He formed relationships.

He played bridge with Mr. Oh on Sundays. He babysat his neighbor’s kids from time to time. He helped her out when she was caught between making it to work on time and dropping the kids off at school. He had a passing friendship with Jihoon, the part-time grocery clerk and full-time paper delivery person; they ate at the seafood restaurant from time to time in a comfortable silence only occasionally interrupted by bursts of conversation. 

He met Myungjun.

His heart fluttered, his palms were sweaty, and his words always eluded him when he saw Myungjun. Myungjun taught at the elementary school and always gave Jinwoo a special smile just for him when he dropped off Jaein’s kids. It had been ages since someone left Jinwoo so flustered, and that excited and terrified him. He saw Myungjun around town often. He once came to get photos developed when Jinwoo was working. Myungjun ended up staying the entire time his photos were being processed, freely sharing about his work. He was kind, thoughtful, and generous. He always parted from Jinwoo with a bright hope to see him soon and the promise to be better company next time, as though he had somehow inconvenienced Jinwoo by being charming and lovely.

Myungjun made him nervous.

Despite his best efforts, Jinwoo had begun the process of growing roots here. He liked the people, even if the location was dissatisfactory. Myungjun asked him questions, personal questions, about his family, his education, his passion, his reasons for moving here, and his interest in a romantic relationship. Each question was punctuated with an earnest smile and inquisitive eyes. He wanted to _know_ Jinwoo; he had somehow made space to care for another person in his giant heart. Occasionally, Myungjun softly chewed on part of his lower lip when he was worried that a question crossed the line. His face fell each time that Jinwoo tried to skirt around answering his questions. 

He wanted to be honest in front of Myungjun.

He hated the look on Myungjun’s face each time he dodged a question. He didn’t know how to convey his yearning to be open without being burned again. Competing desires burned within him, especially when Myungjun got all red and quiet, asking if he was interested in anybody. He looked up through hopeful eyelashes and Jinwoo was almost ready to throw away everything he’d built just for the chance to ask Myungjun if he _liked_ him too.

Instead, he asked why Myungjun wanted to know.

Myungjun wilted and withdrew. Jinwoo had hurt him. Myungjun scrunched his nose and looked away, pressing lips into a hardline. He brushed it away, apologizing for crossing a line and thinking they were friendly enough to discuss those kinds of things. The space between them grew exponentially, and Myungjun avoided him whenever possible. His smiles weren’t as bright; they felt forced. (Jinwoo had a silent hope that his feelings were reciprocated; perhaps, he had been too cold for Myungjun to read properly.)

He took a risk.

With a daisy in hand and a clumsy idea of what he would say, Jinwoo ventured onto the beach to meet with Myungjun. He was incomprehensibly delighted when he saw Myungjun pacing, waiting for him with tense body language. It took saying his name from Myungjun to snap out of it and realize that JInwoo was offering him a flower with a sheepish, “It reminded me of you.”

He liked to think it was a declaration spoken more so in emotions than words.

He spent a moment waiting for his flower to be accepted. He watched as Myungjun tenderly took the flower with a soft face, looking at its petals with marvel in the eyes. They shared a long and telling look. Myungjun seemed to search for answers in his eyes; he found them and, when he did, a smile slowly bloomed on his lips. Jinwoo was awkward again, shifting his weight between his feet. It took him a moment to harness the courage to verbalize his feelings. He simply said, “I like you.”

Myungjun liked him too.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr? ](https://yehetno.tumblr.com)  
> yo, i'm going stir crazy. if this is my swan song, know that i was a better writer than this once upon a time.
> 
> stay healthy, kids. wash your hands.  
> yehetno: disappointing the "fans" since forever.  
> i'm tired y'all.


End file.
